


White Ribbons

by Rathe



Category: Star-Crossed (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, so much sexual tension between these two in the show dear god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rathe/pseuds/Rathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a little chat between Drake and Grayson in the hallway. Also something happens that should have happened in the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Ribbons

Grayson comes to school the next day feeling like he's burning up inside. His parents – god, his parents are shortsighted, prejudiced bastards. The way Emery looks at him makes him itch under his skin, and while nobody else knows, he feels like they do. That they know his parents are horrible people, and that he's a horrible person for not preventing it.

He doesn't get much parental guidance from his parents anymore, not that he would take it. They see him as a cheap version of his brother, at best, and the one who should have died at worst. He'll never feel as good as his brother, but he's first in his class and he likes to think he's a good person. He does charity work in the little free time he has. He's trying to understand the atrians, make up for the mistakes his parent make. They'll never understand him, or love him, and he's fine with that. He's not perfect, he's never going to be, and it'll ruin him if he keeps trying.

But he does – he tries so hard - and when he sees Drake leaning against a wall, angry and brooding (and huge) as always, he can't help but understand him. Especially after he saw where he lives. Drake lost a huge chunk of his tribe, Grayson lost his brother, and anything resembling a real family. Grayson feels like his problems are miniscule compared to his, though, and that's a nice feeling to have for once.

Nobody's in the hallway – it's one of the back hallways almost no one uses, and it's lunch, so everyone's in the cafeteria or somewhere else to eat. When he gets closer he sees that Drake looks more distraught than usual. The white ribbon on his hand that he hadn't had the guts to take off yet felt like a million pounds.

“Are you okay?” he asks walking a little closer. Grayson isn't small, but Drake makes him feel like he's five nothing and scrawny. Drake looked ready to punch him after two seconds.

“Don't go all Emery on me, human,” he spat on the floor, and Grayson tried not to cringe like a priss, “Mind your own damn business.”

Grayson, lacking all self preservation, leans on the wall next to him. Up close, Drake really is good looking, in a rugged, angry sort of way. Grayson wonders if Atrians accept homosexuality, if it even exists in their race, or if they treat it like humans did three hundred – or even fifty – years ago. Not that he had a chance regardless.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“Maybe,” is all he says in reply because it's the closest to the truth, “Do you?”

“Are you threatening me?” Drake growls, and Grayson laughs harder than he has in weeks, which shuts Drake up even if the look on his face looks murderous.

“You just threatened me,” Grayson said, still snickering a bit, “I wasn't, by the way, but if I had, it would be justified.”

Drake looks less furious, but still as angry as usual. Grayson wonders if that's just his face.

“You have a weird laugh,” Drake huffs, and they stay like that for a while, not looking at each other.

“So, um, do different tribes have different markings?”

“What?” Drake whips his head over, confused more than anything.

“Is it different from person to person, or is it based in tribe?”

“A little bit of both,”

“Do you have only one language on your planet or several?”

“One, but different dialects,”

“Is it bigger or smaller than earth?”

“I don't – bigger – I guess, but smaller population.”

“Why'd your people leave?”

Drake didn't answer that one, and Grayson really had no idea what to assume. A dying planet? Civil war? Just some people moving out for adventure? Whatever it was, they sure had some bad luck with planet choice.

“Did your trees look like our trees?”

“Not really,”

Grayson starts to fiddle with the white ribbon on his wrist before pulling it off. Drake watched the moment like he was pulling out a gun. Grayson gently grabbed his wrist, tying the ribbon fast as he could around the Atrian's wrist before he could backhand him ten feet down the hallway. His wrist was thicker, the ribbon almost too short to tie but it was just enough.

“What the-”

“It's stupid but,” he paused, “For your tribe,”

Drake stared at him like he was a unicorn that had just stabbed someone. Magical, unbelievable, and absolutely crazy.

Then the bell rang, and Grayson got out of there before anything else could happen.


End file.
